There is a certain symmetry in the growing of olive groves (is that still the official collective noun?). Like vineyards, straight lines and a good distance apart helps with the growing, picking an collecting. Its a bit like life though, when you get up close you can see the gnarled charm of individuality weaving through. What I like about Crete is the sense of order with the higgledy-pigglediness of life stitched into its fabric. its a bit like my own life, in fact. I have to have tidy spaces, a tidy desk, a tidy workspace, almost to the point of obsession, even if books etc are only in neat piles and yet this creative chaos, creeps like a winding snail trail across the floor. So looking at the order of the olive grove, juxtaposed with the gnarled old tree up close, I see a mirror image - blimey, am I comparing myself to this old tree with a hole in the middle? Hmm - note to self, hide all the mirrors.
I have been thinking about writing songs about real people; I wrote one about Amelia Earhart but that was a kind of tribute to Plainsong and not really about her, just a speculation. This is a song about Hadley Richards, who was the first Mrs Hemingway and it has a certain charm...
